Far Away
by purplepagoda
Summary: When Olivia goes missing will they be able to find her in time. Will her disappearance bring the team together, or will it rip them apart? Can Elliot help find her? What if all of their efforts are too late?
1. To Hell

She wakes up to the feeling of a pin sticking in her arm. Within a second, the feeling of a pin prick turns into a burning. She begins to open her eyes. Before she can completely open them, she feels a hand cover her mouth. She immediately recognizes that it's not her own. She opens her eyes. She wants to scream, but she can't. She stares in horror, at the figure standing next to her bed. It's dark, and she can't make out his face. Panic begins to set in, as she realizes that this isn't a dream. Instead, it's her worst nightmare coming true.

He reaches for her, and she instantly realizes that she can't move. She thinks of her gun. It lies less than two feet away from her, on the bedside table. He hovers over her, as if he's waiting, for something. He doesn't say anything, and he doesn't come close enough for her to see his face. She begins to feel herself drift away. It doesn't take long, before everything goes black.

He peels back her covers, once he's sure that she's unconscious. He lifts her out of her bed, and places her in a cardboard box, that sits on a dolly, near the bedroom door. He gently closes the lid, and pulls the dolly out of her apartment. He gets into the elevator. He makes it to his car, unnoticed.

* * *

Cragen comes out of his office. He looks at Nick, who sits at his desk.

"Amaro, Ben..." he stops mid-sentence. His head turns towards Olivia's desk. He notices that she is absent. He looks over at her partner. "Nick, where is your partner? It's not like her to be late?"

He shrugs, "I don't know I called her, and sent her a couple of texts. She hasn't answered."

"I had a case for the two of you," Cragen admits.

Fin chimes in, from his desk, "Captain, something doesn't feel right."

Nick nods, in agreement, "Liv would call if she was going to be late, or if she wasn't coming at all."

"I agree," Fin adds.

"Can I go over to her apartment, and make sure that she's ok?"

"Yeah," Cragen nods, "Take Fin. John, Amanda, you take the rape victim in central park."

* * *

They get off the elevator, and head towards her apartment. When they reach the door, Fin stops. Nick studies the door, realizing that there are marks on it. Nick pulls on gloves. Fin pulls out his gun. Nick looks to Fin. Fin nods. Nick opens the door, and steps in. They make their way through the apartment, towards her bedroom.

Nick freezes, in the doorway. He sees Olivia's gun, badge, and cellphone laying on her nightstand. Fin notices her keys, in the kitchen, and goes to meet Nick, in the bedroom. Nick flips on the light. He finds that the bed is not made. On her pillow there is a note.

"Fin," he calls out.

"I'm right here," he says, from two feet behind him.

Nick grabs the note, with his gloved hands. He turns around, and shows it to Fin.

"You'll never find her," Fin reads out loud.

* * *

She begins to wake. Before she opens her eyes, she realizes that she is in a moving vehicle. She feels groggy, as she begins to regain consciousness. She opens her eyes, but she can't see anything. She begins to panic. She allows herself a moment to take in her surroundings. There is a mask over her eyes. She lifts her hands, from her lap, to take it off. When she lifts her hands, she hears the sound of chains. The shackles on her wrists keep her from reaching her face. She tries to scream, but there is tape over her mouth.

She leans forward, against the pull of her seatbelt. She manages to pull her eye mask off. She tosses the mask on the floor. She peels the duct tape off her mouth, wads it into a ball, and throws it onto the ground, too. She blinks, as her eyes adjust to the sunlight streaming in the window, to her right.

She is in a van, with her hands cuffed. Not cuffed, shackled. There are chains attached to the cuffs. The chains are attached to the frame of the van. She couldn't get out of them, if she tried. She looks forward, out the windshield. She sees nothing that she recognizes. The bright red numbers on the clock, on the dash read; _838_. She stares at the clock, in disbelief.

She turns her focus to the driver. She can't see him, very well. He's wearing a grey ball cap, and a blue fleece jacket. She looks into the rearview mirror, but she can make out very few details. She feels fuzzy, and confused. She swallows hard. Her mouth feels dry, and cottony.

* * *

Tutuola pulls out his phone. He looks at Nick, in horror. Nick stands in front of Olivia's bed, holding the note in his hands, frozen. After two rings the party that Fin is trying to reach picks up.

"Cragen," Don answers.

"Captain, we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"Olivia isn't here," Fin admits.

"Maybe she is stuck in traffic," Don hopes.

"You don't understand. Her keys, badge, gun, and phone, they are all still here."

"But she's not?"

"No."

The red flag goes up, in Cragen's head, "What's going on?"

"The lock on the door has been tampered with. Someone took her."

"What makes you think that?" Cragen wonders.

"They left a note," Fin reveals.

"What does it say?"

"You need to get over here. You need to send a team over here, now."

* * *

She tries to swallow down the fear, and sense of panic. She tries to convey a calm, even tone, "Where are you taking me?"

He doesn't answer her, he keeps his eyes on the road.

"Who are you?" she continues to question him.

He doesn't say a word.

"Are you deaf?"

"I'm not deaf, but you could very easily be dead."

She stops with her questions. She looks out her window, trying to find a landmark to identify where she is. All she sees is miles of road.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You don't want to know," he insists.

"Where are you taking me?" she repeats.

"To hell," he answers, sadistically.


	2. Prisoner

Nick sits at his desk, ready to bang his head into it. They are several hours into their investigation, and they have absolutely no leads. They know the model of the mass produced inkjet printer. Cragen stands in the middle of the squad room.

"What are we missing?" Cragen questions.

"Everything," John answers.

Fin chimes in, "There are no leads. We have no idea who he is. We have no idea where he took her. We don't know why he took her. There is no DNA evidence."

"We have to find her," Nick insists.

"We have other cases. Captain, they're aren't enough of us," Amanda adds.

"I put a call into the FBI, they're on their way."

"Yeah, but whose going to make sure that they do their jobs?" Munch wonders.

"I called Elliot, too. He's on his way in."

"Did you tell him what happened?" Fin queries.

"No, but I will. My hope is that he will be willing to devote his time to this."

* * *

She ends the conversation, there. She looks out the window, but she finds it difficult to keep her eyes open. After less than an hour she drifts back to sleep. When she wakes up, she's somewhere else. She is no longer in the van. She is no longer shackled to the floor.

She surveys her surroundings. She is in a basement. She sits on a roll-away bed. In the corner of the room there is a stand, with a microwave, and a toaster. Next to it is a mini-fridge. She feels some relief, that she is no longer shackled. She gets off the roll away bed, and searches the room for any type of weapon. She finds a few bottles of water in the fridge, and a jar of jelly. Inside the drawer of the stand on which the microwave, and toaster sit, she finds peanut butter, bread, and plastic silverware.

She finds a small bathroom. A shower, a sink, and a toilet. She leaves the bathroom, and returns to the other room. She walks past the rollaway bed, towards the left side of the room. She finds a dresser. Inside she finds six orange jumpsuits. She looks down, and realizes that she's no longer in her pajamas, instead she's wearing the orange scrubs, and pair of shoes, with no laces. Above the dresser is a calendar secured to the wall with duct tape.

There is no mirror. The only thing that can possibly be used for a weapon is a cord off one of the appliances. She walks to the door. It's made of steel. She reaches for the knob. She quickly realizes that is locked from the other side. She touches the walls, they are harder than normal drywall. She wonders if they are made of lead. She walks back across the room. She takes a seat on the bed. She looks up, and finds a camera, in the corner of the room.

He's watching her. He's keeping an eye on her, in her personal prison. She's wearing a jumpsuit, like a prisoner. Her shoes have no laces. Her cell is somewhat larger than eight by eight. She estimates somewhere closer to ten by twelve. She does have access to food. There is a clock, on the wall, to help her measure the time.

She hears the bolt being unlocked, from the other side. She sits perfectly still, and stares at the door. She waits for it to open. He steps into the room, and closes the door behind him. She hears the door lock, without him touching it. He turns off the light, to make it difficult for her to see him. She hears his footsteps as he approaches her.

"What do you want from me?" she questions.

"Your soul, and your shield," he snarls.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"To teach you a lesson. Luckily, for you, I haven't decided whether I want your life, or not."

"Please, don't do this."

"We have only just begun. This is your prison, and I am the warden. It is my job to make your life hell."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"You deserve it."

"Did I do something to you?"

"I don't want to talk about that, detective," he admits, getting closer to her.

"They're going to find you," she warns him.

"How? They don't know where you are."

"Where am I?"

"Somewhere that they will never find you."

"They are going to find you. They will find out who you are, and they will hunt you down."

"You're wrong. I am nobody. Nobody notices me. Nobody will ever find you. Maybe I will do you a courtesy, if I decide I want your life, and take your body back to the great state of New York, one piece at a time, just to taunt them."

"They're going to find you."

"No, they're not. You've been missing for fifteen hours now."

She thinks back to the clock on the wall. She realizes that it's just after six p.m., which means she was gone, for at least seven hours, before anyone realized it.

"Why me?"

"You know exactly why, detective Benson."

Before she can say anything else, she feels a cool blade pressing against her neck. She freezes, trying not to move, or swallow, or even breathe.

"You're not in charge here. You're not a hero, here. You're my prisoner. You're a victim."

Her heart drops, into her stomach, upon hearing his last sentence. She's hungry, and weak. She's groggy from whatever medication he's given her.

She flinches, when she hears his belt buckle. The knife nicks her throat, causing a superficial wound. She feels a few drops of blood trickle down her neck. He grabs her hands, and she tries to resist. He begins wrapping duct tape around her wrists, to bind her. He cuts the piece of tape, with his knife. She knows she has to make her move, now. She slides off the bed, onto her feet.

He reacts quickly, as she makes her way into the bathroom. She reaches for the door, to slam it, and create a barrier. Suddenly she makes the realization that there is no door. His footsteps come near her, in the dark. She freezes. There is no where to run, and nowhere to hide. The footsteps stop. She can hear him breathing, just a few feet away. She hears a crack. The leather belt smacks against the inside of her leg.

She grabs the belt. Instantly, she realizes that this is a mistake. He pulls her towards him. He grabs her by the shirt, and drags her out of the room. She fights the urge to cry, as she struggles with him. She tries to wiggle free of his grip. He lets go of her, for a brief second. He grabs her by the hair, instead.

"Fight if you want to, it makes it more enjoyable for me," he taunts her.

She lifts her knee, directing it towards him. He catches her leg, and bends it behind her. He shoves her against the wall, as hard as he can. The back of her head hits the wall. He lets go of her leg, as she attempts to regain her balance. He pulls her forward, by her shirt. He rips it off her. She fights him. He puts his hand around her neck. She struggles to breathe. He notices her hand moving. She reaches up, with her bound hands, in an attempt to knock his hand away. He lets go of her neck. He pulls her forward, and spins her around. He presses her face first into the wall. She feels a sense of confusion, when he takes a step back.

The cracking sound quickly clears up her confusion. She tries to move. Her attempts prove too little, too late. The belt rips into her back. He steps forward, as she stumbles towards the ground, in pain. He keeps her from hitting the ground. She finds herself staring down her attacker, with her back literally against the wall. He presses his forearm against her windpipe, under her chin.

"Are you done fighting it, yet?"


	3. Don't Go There

"You must be a pretty weak man, you won't even challenge me to a fair fight. You have my wrists bound, I haven't eaten all day, I have no weapons, and you have drugged me."

He doesn't say anything. He takes a step back. She tries not to think about what he's going to do next, now that she has foolishly challenged his manhood. Several seconds pass, in silence.

Finally he speaks, "You're right. I like someone who can fight back."

He moves away from her. His footsteps head towards the door. He flips the light on, as he's on his way to the door. The bright light hurts her eyes. Her eyes are still trying to adjust, as he exits the room, and closes the door. Finally her eyes come into focus. She grabs her shirt, off the floor. And slides down the wall. She's on the verge of tears, when the door opens again. He steps in briefly, just to set a plate inside the door. The door slams, and he's gone again. After a moment, she regains her composure, and rises to her feet. She walks over to the door, and finds a plate of food sitting in front of it, on the floor. She grabs the plate, and carries it over to the cot. She removes the foil that it is wrapped in. She finds that the food is still warm. She too hungry to even care what it is.

* * *

Nick, looks up, from his desk, at his exhausted co-workers. He hangs up the phone. He shakes his head, discouraged. John looks over to him.

"Anything?"

"They found a vehicle matching the description of the one that we saw on surveillance around her apartment."

"The plates matched?"

"Yeah, they were the same stolen plates."

"Was she in it?" John wonders.

"No, it was abandoned at a park and ride, along the interstate, just this side of the Pennsylvania line."

"So, now we think that he took her out of state?" John tries to clarify.

Nick nods, "Yeah, it's looking that way. How are we ever going to find her? We have no idea who this guy is. We don't know his motive for taking her. We don't know what kind of vehicle he was in. We don't know where he took her."

"We'll find her," John insists.

"We have to," Fin adds.

* * *

He sits at her desk, staring at the pictures, in front of him, in his own world. He doesn't hear anything anyone is saying, around him. He looks at the pictures, and it hits him that he may never see her, again. Footsteps bring him back to reality. He looks up, at Cragen.

"Elliot did you hear me?"

Elliot makes eye contact, with his former Captain, "I didn't hear you, sorry. What did you say?"

Cragen points to a man, in a suit, nearby, "I want you to work with agent Rodriguez, to help find Olivia. Ok?"

"That's fine, but can we talk, for a minute?"

Don nods, "Yeah. My office," he agrees.

Elliot follows him into his office. He closes the door, and Don waits for him to start the conversation, but he doesn't. Elliot doesn't make eye contact.

"El, what's on your mind?"

"The way that I left things with her. This whole thing has really gotten me thinking. What if we never see her again? How am I going to live with the fact that I never fixed things with her? I walked out on a twelve year partnership. I turned my back on her, and I don't know if I can forgive myself for that. I made a mistake."

"Then help us find her."

* * *

She lies there, wide awake, in the dark. It's late, and she's exhausted, but she can't sleep. She listens to the clock ticking on the wall. Her mind churns with thought. She wonders where she is. Who is holding her captive? Is she ever going to make it out alive? Can she make it out of this place, unscathed?

She rolls onto her side. She is covered by a sheet, and a single thin blanket. She wants to curl up into a ball, and just give up, knowing that this is only the beginning. Even though she doesn't want to admit it, she knows that he's right. She may never be found. If she is, it won't be soon.

* * *

Nick lies on a lumpy mattress, in the cribs. He stares up at the ceiling, even though he should be catching a few minutes of shut eye. Footsteps come towards him. He looks over, at the figure standing in the doorway.

"You asleep?" Elliot asks.

"How could I sleep? My partner is missing. Some piece of scum took her, and I don't know where she is."

"I know how you feel."

"We have to find her," Nick insists.

"I have to apologize to her."

"For what?"

"Being an asshole. For leaving, the way that I did. That is just the beginning of the list. There are a lot of things."

"I just want my partner back. She's the best partner I have ever had. She and I, we have our differences, but I respect the hell out of her. I wish she knew that. I wish I had told her that."

"Don't go there yet," Elliot warns.

"Where?"

"That she's gone, and she's not coming back. Olivia is a fighter. If there is a way, she'll find it. She'll come back to us."

"I want to believe that, but we have no leads. We have no idea who this guy is. We didn't see his face on any of the cameras. All we know is that he is a medium build caucasian male."

"I got a list from Barba of releases from the last two years, if you want to go through the files with me," Elliot reveals.

"Yeah, sure. I'm not doing any good in here."

* * *

She wakes up, suddenly. It's dark, and it takes her a few seconds to figure out where she is. She is sweating. For some reason the thought crosses her mind that she isn't wearing the clothes that she started out in. At some point, while she was unconscious the previous day, he had put her in the orange prison garb. And, he had also managed to get her out of a vehicle, and into this basement. She shudders at the thought of what else she has missed, while she was in a drug induced state of non-consciousness. Her breath hitches, and the hair on the back of her neck stands up. Suddenly she realizes that she's not alone. She hears breathing, that isn't her own. The breathing comes from a few feet away.

"Sweet dreams," he whispers, and then he heads for the door. She listens to the door open, and close. It automatically locks behind him.


	4. Regret

His voice is the last thing in her head, before she falls asleep. His face is the first thing that she sees, when she jerks back into consciousness. He hovers over her, just watching her sleep.

* * *

He wakes up, with a knot in the pit of his stomach. It takes him a moment to realize where he is. He sits up, and looks around the room. Everyone around him is working. He is sitting at his desk. He looks up at the clock, to see what time it is. He is unsure when he nodded off. Amanda makes her way to his desk, and places a cup of coffee in front of him. He smiles, weakly, but graciously.

"Thanks."

"Nick, we're going to find her," she promises.

"Are we any closer than we were yesterday?"

"We're going to catch a break, any minute. I can feel it."

"That isn't the feeling that I've got."

"What do you mean?"

"I just have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach."

"You can't think that way," Amanda warns.

"She's been missing for more than twenty four hours. Anything could have happened to her in twenty four hours."

"Nick, you have to stay positive. We are going to find her."

"I don't doubt that at some point we will find her."

"Then what is your problem?" she raises an eyebrow.

"We'll find her, but in what condition? We don't know."

She doesn't say anything. She just looks at him, knowing that he's right.

He shakes his head, "I don't want to talk about this, anymore."

She nods, and walks away, allowing him his space.

* * *

She sits up, and looks at him. She wonders how long he's been watching her, not just this morning, either. She wonders if he had been watching her, before that. Had it been days, even months since he became fixated on her? Why her? He stands in front of her.

"How long are you going to keep me here?"

"Until you give up," he reveals.

"Until I give up?" she raises an eyebrow.

"One person can only take so much," he reminds her.

"Who hurt you?" she tries to get him to talk.

"Nobody," he insists.

"Who turned you into this monster?"

"Nobody. Look," his cheeks turn red, and his nostrils flare, "I am not a victim. Do not try to turn me into one."

"Did I strike a nerve?"

"Nobody ever did anything to me."

"I don't believe you."

"You heard what you just said."

"And, I saw how you reacted. Who was it? A teacher, a family member?"

Without warning he snaps. His hand wraps around her throat. He grips her throat, until she's sure that she's going to pass out. Then, just as suddenly he stops. She tries to catch her breath. He stands there, with his arms folded across his chest. She studies him, in silence. He stands tall, and still. He is average looking, average build. There is nothing special about him.

"You know who I am, who are you?"

"That isn't important."

"You can't even tell me your name?"

"I didn't come here to make small talk. I didn't come down here, to talk about my feelings, or my past."

"Then why did you come down here?"

"To get what I wanted all along."

* * *

He sits in an empty room, at the precinct. There is a table, a chair, and some filing cabinets. There are boxes full of files. There are papers spread all over the table he is sitting at. He is interrupted, by someone opening the door. He looks up, and finds Amaro standing in the doorway.

"You need any help in here?"

Elliot looks up, "Nah, I'm ok."

Nick points to the object in Elliot's hand, "Whatcha got there?"

Elliot looks down at the picture, and then looks up at Nick, "I found it in some old case files. It is a picture we had taken, for an undercover operation we worked. We went undercover as a married couple."

Nick doesn't say anything. Elliot hands him the picture. Nick closes the door, as he takes the picture. He studies the picture, and instantly he sees it.

"You guys look happy here."

"We were at each other's throats a lot. We didn't always see eye to eye, but she was my partner."

"You could pass for a married couple," Nick admits, avoiding asking the obvious question.

"We could have passed for a lot of things," Elliot admits.

Nick goes for it, anyway, "Did you ever..."

Elliot cuts him off, "She would never."

"But, you loved her."

Elliot doesn't answer. A thought pops into Nicks head.

"I never called her boyfriend. He doesn't know that she's missing."

"Her boyfriend?"

* * *

She stands up. He doesn't flinch, even though she is only a couple of inches from him. She can see he is used to having someone in his face. He looks directly into her eyes.

"We're evenly matched. I have no weapons. No belt, no knife," he reveals.

She doesn't say anything.

"How does your neck feel?"

She doesn't answer.

"And your back?"

She tries not to think about being lashed with a leather belt, the night before. She remains alert, ready for his next move. His nostrils flare, in irritation, clearly he's still irritated that she's challenged his manhood. The look in his eyes tells her that she is going to regret it.


	5. Give It Up

He hangs up the phone, clearly, angered. His colleagues look up, as he slams the receiver down. Munch looks over at him.

"Fin, everything ok?"

"No. That was ESU. They are still processing."

"That's ok," John insists.

"They're almost finished, and they still haven't found a single shred of evidence. Other than the jimmied door, there is no evidence that anyone was even there."

* * *

He steps closer to her. She uneasiness grows exponentially, with each passing second. She watches him, closely. His arm begins to move. She catches his right hook, before it can connect with her eye socket. He grabs her arm, and peels her hand off of his wrist. He stops, abruptly, as if he hears something. He takes a step back. Without a word, he leaves the room.

She sits down, waiting for him to return. The only sound she hears it the clock, ticking on the wall. It lulls her back to sleep, before too long.

* * *

He pulls at his collar, clearly he's irritated. Nick looks over at him.

"Are you sure you're ok to be here?" Nick questions.

"I'm fine," Elliot insists.

"Ok."

Elliot makes a fist, and knocks on the door. Footsteps move towards the door. The door comes open, and Elliot just stares at the party on the other side.

Brian looks at the two detectives standing in front of him. He looks to the younger detective, who avoids his glance. The older detective looks him dead in the eye.

"Elliot, what are you doing here?"

Elliot can't seem to find the words to answer. Brian looks to the younger detective.

"Amaro? What's going on, here? Have either of you talked to Olivia? I haven't heard from her. She's not answering her calls. Is she undercover, or something?"

Elliot finally breaks his silence, "She's not undercover."

Brian instantly picks up on Elliot's tone of voice, "What's going on?"

"Olivia is missing. Someone took her," Elliot reveals.

"What?"

* * *

She wakes up, after less than twenty minutes. Suddenly she finds it hard to breathe. She opens her eyes, and she finds his knee on her chest. Panic begins to set in. She tries to push him off her, but his knee doesn't move. She starts kicking, and punching. After several moments, his knee moves. He grabs her by the arms, and holds them down. It only takes her a second to realize how close his arms are to him. He stands over top of her, holding her arms down, to keep her from fighting. She takes the opportunity. She bites him, as hard as she can. He recoils, as she draws blood. She spits, and tries to get up. This only infuriates him more. As she leans up he grabs her by the shoulders and slams her back down. She hits her head on the frame of the bed.

She knees him, and he stumbles back. It gives her the opportunity to get up. She gets to her feet. Before she can get anywhere he grabs her by the hair, and pulls her back. She elbows him in the ribcage as he pulls her hair. He lets go of her, temporarily. She backs away from him, quickly. She trips, and falls backwards. She lands on her butt. He circles her, like a lion circling his prey. She tries to get up. He gets to her, before she can get off the cold, concrete floor.

He straddles her, with his knees on either side of her. He smacks her across the face. She sits up. She's face to face with him. She spits in his face, and punches him, in the eye, and then wriggles away. She's barely to her feet, when he reaches her, again. He slams her against the cinder block wall.

* * *

They sit around a large table, in their conference room. There are so many of them, that they can't all sit at the table. Several of them stand. Cragen sits at the head of the table. He is surrounded by members of his unit, as well as ESU technicians, an FBI psychologist, and other members of NYPD. They all stare at him, in anticipation.

"I am sure that you are all wondering why I called you here today. I know that your time is valuable, but today I am asking for a favor. One of our own has gone missing. Detective Olivia Benson was taken from her home, approximately thirty six hours ago. We do not know who took her. We do not know where he took her. We don't even know who he is. We have no pictures of him. We found the vehicle he stole, abandoned along the highway, near Pennsylvania. We are asking for your help, to find her."

* * *

Over an hour later, she cringes, as she hears the door slam. She doesn't move. She tries not to think. She does her best not to process what just happened. Numbly, she pushes herself off the floor. She grabs clean clothes out of the drawers, and she heads into the door-less bathroom. She is glad there isn't a mirror. She knows that she doesn't want to see herself. She knows there is a cut to her throat, that is superficial. There are bruises to her throat, too. And bruises, and gashes to her face, and arms, and other places, too. She pictures the class ring on his finger, and the in print it must have made on her face. She turns on the shower, and peels off all of her clothes. She opens the drawer, of the plastic storage tower. She finds toiletries. She gets them out, and carries them into the shower with her.

* * *

They spend the next several days tracking down possible leads from tip lines, and other sources. They all lead absolutely nowhere. It's been a week since she's gone missing. The Captain hangs up the phone, in his office. He chokes back tears, and he goes into the squad room. He looks around, at his detectives. They are all hard at work. Every single one of them looks exhausted, and emotionally drained. He swallows hard, as he heads to the center of the squad room. He clears his throat, and they all look up.

"Listen up," he begins.

"What's going on? Did we find her?" Fin hopes.

"No. I just got a call from the commissioner," he explains.

"And?" Amanda questions.

"And, he wants us to get back to work."

"Get back to work," Nick furrows his brow, "What do you mean?"

"Business as usual," Cragen clarifies.

"You want us to stop looking?" Amanda queries.

"I don't want you to, but he does. He wants us to get back to our other victims."

"She's only been gone a week," Nick argues.

"I know. I don't like it, either."

"She disappears off the face of the planet, and we get a week to find her? That is crap," John points out.

"I don't like it, either," Cragen admits.


	6. Leads To Nowhere

Week 2:

She wakes up, and finds that she's still in cuffs. She's been shackled to the bed frame, since day three, when she smashed his head into the wall causing him a concussion, and a nasty head wound. She lies there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the clock tick. The minutes pass by, slowly.

* * *

An older woman enters the squad room. She is in her seventies. Everyone is busy with one thing, or another. Fin hangs up his phone, and notices her.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" he questions.

She nods, and approaches his desk. "Yes, I think I have some information that could help you."

"Information about what?"

"The detective who went missing," she reveals.

"Have a seat," he points to the chair at the end of his desk.

"Detective Benson, right?"

"Yes," he confirms.

"My name is Mary Riley. I live in the building across from hers."

"Why didn't you come forward when she first went missing?" he wonders.

"I was in the hospital. I had a knee replacement. I was incapacitated for about a week. I honestly didn't even realize that I had any information to share."

"What happened?"

"I guess I am what you could call a nosey neighbor. I don't sleep well, so I look out my window. Last night, I couldn't sleep, and so I was looking out my window."

"What did you see?"

"It isn't what I saw, it's what I didn't see."

"What do you mean?"

"The van was gone. There was a van parked outside of her building, for a week, before she went missing. I had completely forgotten about it. It would leave, whenever she was at work."

"Did you ever see who was in it?"

"One afternoon I went down to by a newspaper, from the bodega on the corner. I saw the same van."

"How can you be sure that it was the same van?"

"I wrote down the plate number, it was the same."

"You saw who it was?"

"He was a young man, maybe twenty five. He was an average height, average build."

"Hair color, eye color?"

"He was wearing a toboggan. His eyes were blue. I remember, because at first I thought they were brown, because they were so dark, but when I looked again, I realized they were blue."

"And you saw him in the bodega?"

"In front of it. He had a camera."

"He was taking pictures?"

"No."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"No."

"Is there any distinguishing characteristic that you can remember? Tattoos? Scars? Anything?"

"No. I'm sorry."

"Do you know where he went?"

"No."

"Do you know where he came from?"

"No."

* * *

Week 3: Her shackles get removed, while he's gone. She wonders where he works, because he's gone for more than twelve hours at a time. She spends her time trying to figure out how to get out of her own personal prison.

* * *

Fin's phone rings. Olivia' has been missing for a month now. He pulls the phone to his ear.

"Tutuola. Yeah? You do. Yeah, send it over," he hangs up.

He gets up from his desk, and makes his way to the fax machine. He grabs the print off from it, and heads towards Cragen's office. The door is open, so he doesn't knock.

"Fin, you got something?"

Fin holds up the piece of paper. "You know that nosey neighbor I talked to, two weeks ago?"

"Yeah," Cragen nods.

"We finally got the warrant for that bodega, last week."

"Yeah," Cragen recalls.

"I just got a call TARU finally finished going through all of the footage, and we have photo."

Cragen takes the piece of paper from Fin. He studies it carefully. He shakes his head.

"This guy is the most average looking guy I've ever seen. Nothing stands out."

"I know. It's going to be tough to find him, but TARU is going to use photo recognition software to try and find the guy."

"That will take ages."

"Not if we had the FBI's resources."

"Call Huang, have him pulls some strings. I am sure that he will be more than willing to help, given the circumstances."

"I know this is a needle in a haystack..."

"Fin, it's something. It is the first lead we have had in weeks."

* * *

She sits on the edge of the bed, hungry, angry, and tired. It's been a month since she's been taken. The calendar on the wall tells her so. It's been a month since she's been home, or at work, or even seen the people that she cares about.

Instead, she's stuck here, in her own personal prison. She sits in a room, with cinder block walls, so thick that there is no way anyone could hear her scream. She knows this, because she's tried. She still doesn't know her abductor's name. He won't reveal it to her. She wonders how much long he's going to keep her.

How long can she hold on? Her body is covered in bruises, in different stages of healing. She knows she has at least a few fractured, and broken bones. She has a busted lip, and a contusion on her eye brow. She is glad she doesn't have a mirror. She doesn't want to have the mental picture in her mind. She scribbles on a yellow legal pad. She looks over at the clock, and tucks the legal pad, and her ink pen under her mattress. She waits for the door to open.


	7. Almost Her

The door opens, and he steps in, just like clock work. He doesn't say anything. She knows what he wants. She interrupts his thought process, mid-step.

"Tell me your name," she insists.

He freezes, eight feet away from her. He tilts his head upwards, and his eyes meet hers.

"I told you, that isn't important."

"Can we have a moment of honesty here?" she begs.

"Fine," he agrees.

"You aren't going to let me out of here alive, we both know that."

"I told you that I haven't decided that, yet."

"Yes you have," she argues.

"What is your point?"

"The chances of me leaving here, in any way, other than a body bag, are slim to none, right?"

"I suppose," he agrees.

"So then what will it hurt to tell me your name? I don't expect you to reveal your whole name, and life story. A first name would do."

"I could just lie."

"I have spent most of my adult life reading people. I have spent the last month reading you. I know when you're lying."

"My name is Job."

"That is an interesting name."

"This isn't where I cave in, and tell you my life story."

* * *

He wakes from a sound sleep. He's fallen asleep on his couch, with the TV on again. He can't seem to find peace in his sleep. He sits up, to turn the TV off, and finds his daughter sitting at the kitchen table. He looks at the watch on his wrist. He slides off the couch, and heads into the kitchen. He pulls over a chair, and sits down next to her.

"Zara, it's almost midnight, what are you doing up, baby?"

"You were screaming, in your sleep. Daddy, are you ok?"

"It was just a bad dream," he insists.

He looks over at her, and realizes that she's coloring a picture. "Zara my screaming woke you up, but why are you coloring a picture?"

"I color pictures for her, all of the time."

"For who, Zara?"

"Olivia."

"Oh," his heart sinks, "Can I see?"

Zara nods. She reveals a picture of two people, clearly herself, and Nick. They both look sad. Above the people she has written, _We miss you_, in crayon.

"That's very nice. I am sure that she would love it," he tries to stay strong.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Zara?"

"When is Olivia coming home?"

"I don't know, sweetie."

"Where did she go?"

He shrugs, "I wish that I knew, kiddo."

"Did someone take her?"

"Yeah, Zara. Someone took her away from us."

"Is she ever coming home?"

"Zara I think that you should go to bed."

"You were screaming for her, in your sleep."

He scoots out his chair. He rises to his feet, and pulls her chair out. He lifts her off the chair, and carries her into her room. He tucks her into her bed. He takes a seat on the bed, next to her.

"Zara, sometimes in life things happen, that we don't understand. Ok?"

"Ok."

"Now go to sleep," he kisses he on top of the head. He slides off the bed, and heads for the door.

"Wait, daddy!"

He turns, and looks at her, "Yes, Zara?"

"I didn't say my prayers. Will you pray with me?"

"Ok," he agrees returning to be bed.

She closes her eyes, and waits for him to begin. He doesn't say anything. She opens her eyes, and looks at him.

"Daddy, close your eyes. You have to mean it."

"Go ahead," he insists.

"Ok," she nods.

He watches her, in silence, as she prays. When she's finished she opens her eyes, and crawls back under her covers.

"Zara what do you pray for?"

"Lots of things."

"Like what?"

"I pray that Olivia will come home. Don't you?"

* * *

She has been in her basement imprisonment, for two months now. She stares at the picture of a sunset, on the calendar, on the wall. She sits on the edge of the cot, in silence, wrapped in her own thoughts, the same as most other nights.

The sound of something hitting the door, outside the room grabs her attention. She looks at the door, waiting for him to come in. She hears another thud, and a scream. The screaming is muffled by the heavy steel door. For the first time, it crosses Olivia's mind that she's not alone. The screaming is followed by a loud pop. Then it stops. The door flies open. He stands in the doorway, and looks at her.

"Come here," he insists.

She steps forward. She slowly, and reluctantly moves to the doorway. He keeps himself between her, and the hallway. She stops at the edge of the room, and looks into the hallway. He points to the body, on the floor.

"That is what happens, when you try to run. Do you understand?"

She simply nods. She stares at the woman lying on the floor, in a puddle of blood, with a bullet in her head.

"As you were," he responds.

She steps away from the door, and he slams it.

* * *

He is the first to get a call, early Sunday morning, to a crime scene. He meets Melinda in front of a familiar building. She anticipates his arrival.

"Is..." he begins.

Melinda answers his question, before he can answer it. "It's not Olivia."

"It has to be him, he put the body in front of her building," Fin points out.

Melinda hands Fin a piece of paper, "I know it was him, read the note."

Fin takes the piece of paper from her, and reads it, aloud, "Happy hunting detectives. You'll never find her. Even if her fate is the same."

Melinda doesn't say anything. She just stares at the body, lying on the ground, in front of her. It's not Olivia. She looks over at Fin, and knows that he's thinking the same thing.


	8. So Close

Fin stands in the morgue, staring at the body, numbly. She looks similar to Olivia. He tries to shake the thought, but he can't. His mind plummets to all of the things that could happen to her. He looks at Melinda.

"Did you find anything to tie this girl to Olivia's disappearance?"

"I haven't found anything, yet."

"What did you find?"

"This girl was scrubbed clean. Inside, and out. Her nails were trimmed. Her teeth were brushed. This guy is a meticulous bastard."

"Cause of death?"

"Gunshot wound to the head. It went through and through. It was small caliber, so he was pretty close to her, when he shot her."

"What else?"

"Signs of repeated sexual trauma. She has bruises all over her. They are all in different stages of healing. There is also vaginal tearing, and swelling. There are also signs of physical abuse. I took x-rays. I found several different broken, and fractured bones, all in different stages of healing. I also found evidence that the victim was restrained. There are restraint marks on her wrists. There are also signs of malnutrition. He choked her, and beat her, and violated her. He tortured her, and then he killed her."

"Any id on her?"

"No, but I sent DNA samples to the lab."

On his way out of the morgue his phone rings. He pulls it to his ear.

"Tutuola," he answers.

"Fin you have to come down to the lab, I have something for you."

"Ok, I'll be right down," he hangs up.

He reaches the lab, and finds a technician.

"What did you find?"

"I ran the DNA, and fingerprints that Dr. Warner gave me."

"You found her?"

"You aren't going to like who it is."

"Do I know her?" he questions.

"No, but she's a cop."

His pupils dilate, "What?"

"She's a cop. She went missing eleven months ago. She was abducted from her home. She had a disgruntled ex, so the investigation to her disappearance focused on him. They never found any evidence that he had anything to do with it."

"Thanks."

* * *

He sits at his desk, searching his computer for connections. Munch sits next to him, doing his own search. He gets up from his desk, and heads to the printer. He goes to the center of the room, in front of the wipe board. He looks at his fellow colleagues, and he clears his throat.

"Listen up people. We have a bigger problem here on our hands."

Everyone looks up from what they are doing. John holds up pictures. He flashes them, one at a time.

"Six women have disappeared in four years. All of them were cops. They disappeared from different places. The first victim, four years ago disappeared from Philadelphia. Her name was Maria Harris. She was a cop. The second victim disappeared three months later, from Baltimore. Her name was Allison Bentley. A few months after Allison Bentley disappeared the body of Maria Harris was found nearby.  
Three years ago Lydia Shore disappeared from Norfolk. Allison's body was found near Lydia's home shortly after. Eighteen months ago Melanie Reed disappeared from Cincinnati. Catherine Larimer disappeared from Indianapolis eleven months ago. Each time within a few months of a victim disappearing the previous one shows up dead near their place of work, or residence. Each, and every one of these women was a cop. They are all brunette, but their races, and ages vary. We are dealing with a serious predator here."

* * *

He enters the room, and she sits on her cot, staring at the concrete basement floor. She doesn't make eye contact.

"Something bothering you?" he questions, as if he cares.

"Why did you kill her?"

"She tried to run. No one makes it out of here. Do you understand that?"

She looks up at him. Her eyes lock on his face, "What you said earlier, was a lie. You already know that you are going to kill me."

"Only if you run."

"But they all run."

"They all try, eventually."

"So you already know you are going to kill me?"

"I could kill you now if I wanted to. I don't have to have a reason."

"No one has ever gotten away?"

"I made some mistakes with my first, but she isn't talking to anyone now. She is buried deep in the woods, in a shallow grave."

"Why me?"

He smirks, "You are the one who started it all."

"What?"

"You are the one I have been waiting for. All of the others are supposed to be fearless. They are all like you. But yet, none of them are. After the first day they start to give up. They don't have the same fire that you do. They all give up, eventually. They think I don't know they are trying to submit, and behave to gain my trust. They truly think I don't know what they're plotting. They are just waiting for the right time to escape. None of them do."

"So this is a cautionary tale?"

"You fight, or you die."

She shakes her head, "From what I saw, you fight, and you still die."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it. You still have time."

"How do I know that?"

"You have my word. Today isn't your day."

"Excuse me if your word doesn't mean much to me."

"Have I lied to you yet?"

She doesn't answer his question.

"Why are you doing this?"

He smiles at her, devilishly, "You cops just love psychology, don't you? Sometimes there isn't a why."

"There is always a why," she argues.

He moves in close. She doesn't move a muscle. She can feel his breath against her ear, and the thought turns her stomach. He whispers into her ear. "I want to make you my bitch. I want to be one that you can never forget, as long as you live."


	9. Too Long Gone

He pauses, knowing her heart beat is racing, now. He continues, "As long as that may be."

She grits her teeth, as he steps back. Her nostrils flare, in anger. She knows that she's in a situation she can't win. Her only goal is to go out fighting. She spits in his face, "Go to Hell."

He wipes her saliva from his face, in anger. He grabs her by the neck, and pushes her head against the cinderblock wall. "You're already there," he snarls. She struggles to get free. Eventually he lets go. She coughs, and sputters as she tries to regain her breath.

"I chose you for a reason. I knew you would understand. I knew you would play my game."

She swallows hard, tasting blood, "You know one day while you're playing your game, you're going to wrap your hands around my neck, and accidentally break my hyoid, then what? Who will play with you then?"

"Don't worry I will find someone else," he vows.

"But none of them are me."

"I haven't killed you yet," he reminds her, as he turns to leave. She hopes he keeps going, without stopping. She doubts that she can be so lucky. He makes it halfway to the door, before he stops, abruptly. He turns, and pivots. She maintains eye contact. He makes his way towards her. She rises to her feet, before he can reach her. She knees him. He stumbles backwards. She knows that there is no changing the outcome of the situation, only delaying it. She doesn't move. She doesn't run. She's tired of running. He regains his footing, and comes at her, again. She upper cuts him, before he can grab her. He stumbles backwards, again. She remains in the same spot, waiting for him to come at her, again. He comes at her quicker, and with more fury this time, but she's had months to study him.

She knows his next move. He'll go for a punch to the gut, to knock the wind out of her. He moves towards her. She blocks him, kicking him in the ribs. This time he falls to the ground. She doesn't give herself time to savor the temporary victory. Instead, she moves forward, unrelenting. She moves towards him, quickly. She kicks him, as he lies on the ground writhing in pain. She kicks him in the ribs again, then in the head. She draws back, for a third kick. He catches her foot, as it comes towards him. He twists, and pushes, knocking her off balance. She falls to the ground, next to him. She lands on her butt. Her hands are out to her sides. Her tailbone, and wrists take most of the impact. She tries to push herself off the floor, quickly. Still panting, trying to catch his breath he stumbles to his feet, before she can. He stomps on her hand, with his steel toed boot.

* * *

He looks at the calendar on his desk. His sleeves are rolled up. The weather outside is starting to get warm. It's getting closer, and closer to summer, each day. He looks at the date on the calendar. Three months to the day, since his partner went missing. He glances across the room, at her desk. It's like a shrine to her. No one has been allowed to sit there. Even though the captain has assigned another detective, until her return no one sits at her desk. The new guy doesn't get any of this own space, or any of hers, for that matter.

Their investigation of the dead woman who turned up on her doorstep turned up nothing. They tracked down all of the old victims, they put in thousands of hours, and still not a single lead. No forensics. No positive identification. Nothing but more questions. There are a lot of those. More and more questions, and no answers.

It's late on a Saturday night, and for once he doesn't have a case. There is no dead body waiting in the morgue for him. He sits at his desk, in silence. He opens the drawer of his desk, and pulls out a well worn file. He flips it open, and begins to read it, from the top. He stares at letters on the page, knowing that he doesn't even need to read it, because he has it memorized. Her does anyway, hoping that he'll find something he missed before.

He looks up, when a cup of coffee appears on his desk. He finds his co-worker standing next to his desk.

"Thanks Fin."Fin nods. Nick looks around the room. It's well after midnight, and all of his colleagues are still at their desks, even Munch. They each work on different things. One on the computer, one on the phone. One in charge of keeping them hydrated, and fueled up.

"Nick, none of us are ever going to give up."

"She's been gone three months, and we don't have any leads that have brought us closer to finding her. We're all tired. We have all put in a lot of hours. She's my partner, I'm never going to give up on finding her, but how long can we do this? Are we all still going to be here, if we don't find her, for three years?"

"I understand your frustration, man. I feel your pain. You have to believe me when I say, none of us are ever going to give up on finding our girl. Ever. You got that?"

"Yeah," he nods.

Munch hangs up the phone. He looks at his team. Even Cragen works alongside them.

"Are we one hundred percent sure that not a single one of his victims got away?"

"We haven't found any," Amanda reminds him.

"Let's look harder. Expand the search to ten years."

* * *

She stares at her wrist. It throbs. He had set the broken wrist, and secured it with tape, the day after he crushed it. She looks at the clock, and knows that he'll be coming soon. She doesn't feel fiery today. Instead she's tired. The door opens, right on time. He enters the room. She just looks at him.

"It's raining again, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he confirms.

"Third night this week," she comments.

"Your wrist has been bothering you, again?"

"Yes."

"I bet you miss the city, don't you?"

"It's awfully quiet down here in the basement. I don't hear anything, except creaking floorboards above my head."

"You won't hear anything."

"What makes you say that?"

"The house is soundproofed."

"I am well aware of that."

"And," he adds, "There is nobody for miles around."

"Then I should be allowed to leave the basement. There is nowhere for me to run."

"You would if you had the chance."

"How? You kicked me so hard that my ankle turned black. I can barely stand up. How the hell would I run away? Even if I did run I couldn't get very far. I don't know where I am, and you would catch me."

"Nice try," he snarls, "But I'm not letting you out of your cage."

"Even a caged dog gets let out sometimes, for good behavior."

"For good behavior? Two days ago you knocked out my tooth. That is the second one in two weeks."

"You couldn't get any uglier, so what does it matter?" she plays his game.

* * *

Hours later Nick looks up from his computer. He shakes his head.

"I don't believe it."

"What?" Fin questions.

"I found someone. I think she may have been his first," Nick reveals.

"What makes you think that?" Cragen wonders.

"Police found her wandering along the interstate seven years ago. They thought that she was homeless, at first. When they questioned her she said that she had been walking for four days. She didn't know where she had came from. She said someone had abducted her."

"They didn't believe her?"

"They just wrote her off as some crazy," Nick admits.

"Where is she now?" Cragen questions.

"She lives in Louisville."

"Everyone go home, and get some sleep, it's nearly four a.m. Nick, tomorrow I want you, and Amanda to go to Louisville, and talk to this girl."


	10. One Step Closer

Nick sits in the living room of Natalie Drake's house in Louisville. Amanda sits next to him on the couch.

"I am not sure why you're here," she admits.

"We wanted to ask you about the man who abducted you, seven years ago."

"Eight," she corrects him.

"Tell us about it."

"The cops didn't believe me. They thought that I was having delusions. I hadn't eaten in days. They thought I was delirious."

"Natalie," Amanda says softly, "We believe you. We think whoever abducted you took one of our co-workers. Is there anything you can tell us, that will help us out?"

She nods, "I woke up, in the middle of the night. He was in my room. He put a knife against my throat and told me not to scream. He injected me with something. The next thing I remember was waking up in a basement."

"What did he look like?"

"Average. Neatly cut hair, no facial hair."

"How long did he keep you?"

"He kept me for a year. Every day he would mark off the date on the calendar."

"What did he do to you?" Amanda follows up.

"He beat me. He raped me. The tortured me."

"How did you escape?" Nick wonders.

"He was all about schedules, and routines. One day, he left for work. I had stuck a piece of cardboard in the door, from my cereal box. After I knew that he had left I waited a little while. I knew he wouldn't be back for at least twelve hours. Finally I got enough courage to leave. I left the basement. I left the house. I looked down the driveway, and I could see that there was a road, but I was afraid he would know. I took off in the woods. I ran as fast as I could. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, for over an hour, and I was still in the woods. His house must have been on a nature preserve, or a national forest, because it must have been more than three hours before I got out of the woods. Finally I came to a road. It was dark by then. He never left until around six pm. It was at least nine o'clock before I made it to the road. There weren't any cars out. I was tired, but I kept walking. I stopped, and rested in an abandoned barn. It was forever before I came to a house. It wasn't dawn yet, so I didn't stop. I was afraid that he would find me, so I just kept walking."

"How long did you walk for?" Nick questions.

"For three and a half days. I was on back roads for three days. It was like a maze. I was already hungry, and tired, and disoriented. When I finally made it to the highway I knew someone would find me. The police picked me up, after dark that night."

"Do you remember any of the road signs?" Amanda probes.

"No."

"If you drove it could you remember?" Nick hopes.

"Even if I could I couldn't find his house. There is no way I would find my way back through the woods."

"Do you know how far you walked?" Amanda queries.

"Probably sixty miles," she guesses, "And there is no way of knowing if he's even in the same place."

* * *

He puts cuffs on her, and opens the door. He leads her around like a dog on a leash. He allows her to exit the room, and go into the hallway. She surveys her surroundings. Behind her, at the end of the hallway there is another automatically locking door. Halfway down the hall there is another door like hers. Her pushes her forward. She looks ahead, there is nothing but cinderblock ahead of her.

"Where are we going?"

"You wanted out of your cage, so here you go," he tells her.

"There is nothing out here, but some doors."

They reach the end of the hallway, he stops, and points upwards. She looks up, and finds a small window. She approximates that it is six inches wide, by eighteen inches wide. She sees that it is dark outside. She can also see that the window doesn't open.

"What am I looking at?"

"You're not looking at anything, just listen."

She hears the hum of the fluorescent bulbs, overhead. She strains her ears trying to figure out what it is she's trying to hear. Finally she hears it. There is a boom of thunder, and brief moment of light. She listens to the rain, as it beats against the glass of the window. The flickering light causes a thought to flicker into her mind.

"Don't worry," he tells her, "I have a back up generator."

* * *

Nick enters the precinct, with Amanda. As he comes into the squad room his five o'clock shadow is noticeable. They both look exhausted from two red eye flights in less than two days. The captain comes out of his office, as they arrive.

"What did we find out?"

Amanda drags out the cork board, with a map on it. She puts a push pin in it.

"This is where the victim was found. Where he was is anywhere in a sixty mile radius."

John looks at the board, "Can we add pins for each victim?"

Amanda nods, and places pins in for each victim. There is no clear pattern.

"We don't even know if he's still in the same place," Nick points out.

"No, but we do know, he was headed in that direction, with Olivia," Fin looks at the map.

"That is a lot of area. It's a lot of deep woods. There is no way we would be able to cover that much ground. We have to narrow it down," Nick points out.

"What can the victim remember?" Don wonders.

"Not enough to narrow it down. She was too dehydrated, and exhausted when she left," Amanda adds.

John sits in front of his computer. "And pregnant," John adds.

Nick looks up, with a furrowed brow, "What?"

"I did a records search. She gave birth to a baby boy seven and a half months later."

Amanda shakes her head, in disbelief, "She said she had a kid, she never said how old he was."

"That is why she never introduced us, even though he was outside playing in his tree house," Nick realizes.

"We couldn't see him. She didn't want us to," Amanda adds.

"We have to get that kid's DNA," Don insists.

"And compare it to what? It's not in the system," Fin points out.

"Any of the victims that we know about. But if we isolate the mitochondrial DNA all that will be left is..." Don begins to explain.

John cuts him off, "And if he has victims that we don't know about, maybe it will lead us to him."

Nick disagrees, "I think that he's too smart for that."

"He got his victim pregnant," Amanda points out, "Clearly he isn't that smart."


	11. Dead Ends

As quickly as their lead appears, it disappears, too. Their first victim refuses to give up her son's DNA. A string of rape murders brings them back to reality, and shifts their attention to the present. Hours turn into days, and days quickly evolve into weeks. Nick finds himself in Queens. He knocks on the door. The voice on the other side tells him to come in.

"It's open," Elliot yells.

Nick pushes the door open, and enters the house. He follows the light into the living room. Elliot is surrounded by boxes. He sits on the couch. The coffee table in front of him is covered in case files.

"You look like you haven't shaved this week," Nick comments.

Elliot looks up, "You look like a terrorist, who hasn't shaved in two, what's your point?"

"You look rough."

"So do you."

"Do you have anything that might tell us where she is?"

"All of the leads I have found have amounted to nothing."

"What is in all of the boxes?"

"I am going through old case files to see if I can figure out who this guy might be."

"Any leads?"

"Plenty, unfortunately most of the ones who have been paroled, are dead, or back in prison, so it counts them out."

"Did you ever consider the thought that maybe it's not someone that you guys arrested?"

"Unfortunately that is what I am beginning to think."

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?"

"We both agree this guy is psycho, right?" Elliot questions.

Nick nods, "Yeah."

"He may be a sociopath. I fear that he is so careful, so meticulous that he's never been caught."

"And he may never be caught?"

* * *

She lies on her cot, with her worn orange jumpsuit. Her shoes are on the floor. She wears white socks. She takes a deep breath. It smells of fresh laundry. Today is Tuesday. He's just finished doing laundry. Of course before he agrees to do her laundry he makes her strip down to nothing.

She pushes the thought from her mind, as she lies on the cot, in a ball, with her knees to her chest. Her hair is still wet, from the shower she has just taken. Everything smells like Downy. From her clothes, to her sheets, and her pillow. Her skin smells like unscented soap. The aching, from her still healing scapular fracture tells her that it's going to start raining soon.

She listens to the clock on the wall, ticking away. She sits up, on the edge of the bed, and looks at the clock. It's just after midnight. She rises from the cot, and walks over to the calendar. She marks off another day. She writes a number in the box. 124. Day 124, she repeats in her head. She's been here for over four months now.

Her life has become a routine of torture. Her hope, patience, and faith are all wearing thin. Her hair is full of split ends. Her nails are short, and worn.

* * *

The waitress places another beer in front of him. He doesn't wait for her to walk away, before he begins to drink it. He drinks, and listens to the background noise, as it grows late. He knows that the bar will be closing soon, but he doesn't want to go home. At home it's empty, and he won't be able to sleep, no matter what he does. The bell above the entrance rings. He doesn't look to see who it is. He doesn't really care. The footstep approach him. Fin slides into a chair, across the table from him.

"I thought I might find you here."

Nick looks at his watch, "It's almost three in the morning what are you doing here?"

Fin shrugs, "I don't sleep much anymore, either."

"I know that she's not sleeping, so how can I?"

"Nick, you look like hell, go home. We have work in the morning. You need a shower, and a shave."

"What's the point?"

"You can't let this destroy you," Fin warns.

"How can I not? Our team is falling apart. Everything is changing. Every single day I think about my partner. I look over, and her desk is empty. I hear someone coming into the squad room, and I pray that it's her. I pray that all of this is just a dream, and she is just going to reappear. I don't know if I can do this anymore. I just want my partner back."

"I know. That is all any of us want."

"Fin I feel like I'm losing my mind. How could I have let this happen?"

"You didn't let it happen. You weren't there."

"But I should have found her by now."

"There isn't anything that we could be doing differently?"

"Really? Every single one of us is on edge. I took Amanda to a meeting this morning. And Cragen, he's just one breakdown away from the bottom of a bottle. John doesn't say anything, anymore, and you..."

"I what?"

"You act as if none of this is happening. You pretend like everything is ok."

"No. I just know that letting myself fall apart isn't going to help bring her home. Nick, go home, and start again, tomorrow."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Your partner disappeared, and we haven't found her yet. It's tearing you apart, and everyone can see that."

"What do you propose I do? Should I do what Elliot does, and drown my sorrows in bourbon, as I comb through every single detail of her life, hoping that something will make sense? None of this makes sense. It's never going to make any sense. He could have chosen her at random."

* * *

She wakes up, in a cold sweat. She doesn't sleep, for all of the nightmares. When she wakes up, she's still in a nightmare. It's nearly four in the morning, but all of the lights in her basement cell are on. She doesn't have the courage to turn them off, anymore. She opens her eyes, and finds him staring at her. She sees his face, but she's not surprised in the least.

"Sweet dreams," he whispers in a devilish tone.

"Just go away," she begs.

"Make me," he goads her.

"I am tired, and I am hungry. All I want is to go home, and sleep in my own bed. I just want to go home," she breaks down. The tears begin to fall.

"The only way that you're ever going home is in a body bag."

"That's fine. Game over."

"You don't mean that. You still have fight left in you."

"I don't have any fight left in me."

"Give it a few days."

"A few days? What happens then?"

He smirks, "I'm going on a fishing trip for two days. It will give you time to plot your escape. Maybe you'll even try to get away."

"How? I haven't eaten in two days. I am dehydrated, and..."

He cuts her off, "I'll throw you a crust of bread, in the morning before I leave."


	12. Coming Home

But he doesn't leave that morning. It's all just a ruse to see what she'll do. Despite the fact that her basement cell is very well insulated, she can still hear the floorboards above her head creak, as he paces the floor, waiting for her to attempt to leave. After two hours the creaking stops. She waits, for the door to the basement to fly open. She watches the seconds on the clock ticking by. She knows he wears a size ten, she uses the clock to estimate the distance upstairs. The door flies open, and he looks at her, in rage.

"I thought you would want to play. You truly disappoint me, detective Benson. You didn't even try to run."

She rolls her eyes, "I could hear you pacing the floor upstairs, waiting like a dog on a leash for me to walks past. I am not stupid."

He gives her his reptilian smile, "You just bought yourself another few months."

* * *

He watches the clock, as the seconds tick by. He sits at his desk, working on the computer, trying to dig up evidence, on a case. Physically he's there, but mentally he's not. He pauses, for a moment, and looks at the calendar on his desk. He stares at the date. It's been six months since his partner disappeared, and they're no closer to finding her now. They have tracked down, and squashed every single lead they have come across.

* * *

She looks at the calendar, on the wall, in front of her. The date tells her that it's been six months of hell. Her stomach growls, but she knows that there is nothing but bottled water in the basement with her. She knows a sip of water won't quiet her growling stomach. She pulls her pants up, for the umpteenth time since she got up. With each day they grow looser. She estimates that she's lost at least thirty pounds. She knows that beneath the bruises, and abrasions that cover her body her skin is pale. She looks up at the clock, that ticks, above her head.

It reminds her that the devil is at work now. She is there alone, she assumes. She can never really tell for sure whether there is anyone in the basement with her. There is no way to know. The walls are so thick, she wouldn't be able to hear someone screaming two feet away from her. Without warning the lights flicker. She knows that the back up generator will kick on, within fifteen seconds.

Without a second thought she moves towards the door. She knows that it is only inactive for a very short window. She pulls on the handle. The door flies open. She puts a piece of cardboard in the door, and moves down the hallway, quickly. The backup generator still hasn't kicked on. She makes it to the next door, and pulls it open. She sticks a piece of cardboard in the doorjamb.

She looks around the basement, but can't see much. Finally the lights come back on. It takes her eyes a moment to adjust. She sees a washer, and dryer. To her right there is a set of stairs, with a door at the top. She surveys the basement once again. She finds a corded phone hanging on the wall, near a table, next to the dryer. She makes her way to the phone. Her fingers tremble as she dials a familiar number.

* * *

He springs up from his seat, as the phone on his partner's empty desk rings. He grabs the phone on the second ring.

"Amaro," he answers.

"Nick."

"Olivia, where are you? Are you ok?"

"I don't know where I am. Nick I need you to trace this number."

"Ok," he agrees, typing furiously on her keyboard, "It's tracing now. I need you to stay on the line."

"I know."

"Why didn't you call 911."

"I can't," she tells him.

"Is he there, now, with you?"

"I don't think so."

"Then why can't you call 911?"

"Because he is the one who will show up," she insists.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't call the police, he is the police."

"Where is he, now?"

"He's at work. He works twelve hour shifts. He shouldn't be back for another eight hours."

"Then run."

"I don't think that I can."

"Why not?"

"I am too weak. Even if I could make it, I am fairly certain my ankle is broken."

"Oh."

"And I think that I am surrounded by woods. I would never find my way out."

"Olivia, I've got an address. I am going to come get you, ok?"

"Ok."

"Do you want me to stay on the line?"

"No, just come find me," she hangs up.

* * *

He looks at the phone, in disbelief. He hangs up the receiver, and looks around the room. Everyone around him is busy. He makes a beeline for the captain's office. Within the hour he, and some of his teammates are on a plane, with the FBI to a rural area in West Virginia.

They touch down after approximately two hours. It takes them an hour to make it to the location. They pull up in several SUV's. They get out, wearing vests, and guns. Nick looks around him. They are on a property, with a driveway that is easily half of a mile long. The road that leads to the house is a secondary road. They are completely surrounded by woods. Fin looks over at him, as they approach the house, with a team of FBI agents.

They climb the steps of the house. The bust the door down. They clear each room, one by one.

* * *

She hears boots, above her head. Lots of boots. She goes to the door, and pushes it open. She makes her way down the hallway, to the next door. She doesn't stop when she reaches the stairs. She slowly, and painfully climbs each one. She reaches the door, and finds that this one is locked with a good old fashioned deadbolt. She pounds on it.

* * *

Nick stops dead, in the kitchen. Fin looks over at him.

"Do you hear that?" he questions.

"Shh!" Fin insists.

Nick looks at a cabinet, "It's coming from over there."

Fin moves towards the pantry cabinet. He pulls the door open, and finds that there are no shelves. The cabinet is empty. Nick shines his flashlight inside. Fin steps inside. He finds a doorknob, and a dead bolt against the wall. The pounding continues.


	13. Life Goes On

"Olivia?"

"Fin! Get me out of here!"

"Step back," he tells her.

She takes a few steps back. He steps back, but finds at hand on his shoulder. He turns around, and finds Nick.

"I'll kick it," he tells him.

Fin nods, and steps out of the pantry. Nick kicks the door, twice, and finally it flies open. Olivia comes up the stairs. Nick reaches for her hand. He leads her out of the pantry. She looks at him, graciously.

"Nick, I don't think I was the only one down there."

He furrows his brow, "What do you mean?"

"There are two cells."

He nods. "I'll take her to the ambulance," he insists, as Nick heads down the stairs, with a crew of FBI agents.

Fin leads her out of the house. She leans on him, to steady her balance. She carefully walks down the stairs, of the porch. He leads her to the awaiting ambulance. She stops, when she reaches it, and looks at it.

"No," she tells him.

"Olivia we have to get you checked out."

"Not here. I don't know how far his reach goes," she tells him.

"Ok," he nods, leading her past the ambulance, to one of the black SUV's.

She climbs into the passenger's seat. She leaves the door open. She sits on the side of the seat, looking around at her surroundings. She sits in silence. Fin stand next to the vehicle. He tries not to stare at her. It proves to be difficult. She's wearing an orange jumpsuit, but that is the least disturbing thing, by far. Her face, neck, chest, and both arms are covered in contusions, and abrasions. She's pale, and appears dehydrated. She has heavy dark circles under her eyes. He can tell that one of her eyes is still healing from a pretty serious blow. The most disturbing thing is her emaciated appearance. Her collar bones, and cheek bones stick out.

"When was the last time that you had a good meal?" he wonders, aloud.

She shrugs, "I couldn't tell you."

"Where do you want to go, to get checked out?"

"I just want to go home."

"We still haven't found him," he reminds her.

"Please just take me home," she begs.

* * *

Nick stays behind, to locate the perp. Fin, and Olivia head back to New York, on a plane. Olivia refuses to go to the hospital. They climb into the squad car, that is parked at the airport. Fin looks over at her.

"Olivia, you don't have to be this tough."

"This isn't about being tough," she argues.

"What do you mean?"

"It's survival mode."

"Olivia someone has to examine you. You know that."

"I..."

"I am not even talking about criminal proceedings. Olivia, please. I want to make sure that you're alright."

"I just want to..."

He cuts her off, "Not an option."

"I don't want to go to the hospital. Nick hasn't found him, and he won't."

"No one is going to let him hurt you, again."

"You can't promise me that."

"I will be your personal guard," he vows.

"Even you have to sleep, sometime."

"Olivia, please."

"Fine," she agrees.

He shakes his head, in disbelief, as he opens the door for her. The walk down the hallway.

"Are you sure about this?" Fin questions.

"Yes," she insists.

"You want to be examined, in the morgue?"

"Melinda is beyond qualified."

"Ok," he relents. She stops in front of the autopsy room doors. She turns, and looks at him.

"You can wait out here."

"Ok," he nods, in agreement.

Olivia pushes the doors open. She steps inside the room. She finds Melinda standing in front of her, with her back turned towards the door. She looks into the microscope examining a piece of evidence. The cold metal table in the center of the room is void of a body.

"Give me a minute," Melinda insists, upon hearing footsteps.

"Take your time."

Melinda takes her eyes off what she's looking at in the microscope. She turns around, and looks at the person standing there, before her. Her lips curl into a smile. "Olivia."

Melinda moves forward for a hug. Olivia extends her arm, preventing her from hugging her.

"Don't you'll contaminate evidence," Olivia insists.

Melinda studies Olivia's orange jumpsuit. "What do you mean contaminate evidence?"

"I didn't want to go to the hospital. I am not a very trusting individual right now," she admits.

"So you came to me?"

Olivia nods.

"I am just glad that you're finally home."

"Me too."

Melinda grabs a bottle of disinfectant, and a rag. She thoroughly cleans the exam table.

"There are some things that I need to get."

"I'm not going anywhere," Olivia points out.

"Are you sure that you want me to do this? You really want to do this here? I mean..."

"I'm sure."

"It's going to get pretty personal."

"I know. I would just feel more comfortable if you did it. I trust you."

"Ok."


	14. Safety Net

After it's over Fin is waiting for her outside the morgue. Melinda exits the room. Fin hands her a pair of grey sweatpants, and a matching NYPD t-shirt. She goes into the other room, and hands it to Olivia. Olivia gets dressed, and heads for the door.

"Olivia?"

Olivia turns, and looks at her, "Yeah?"

"I'll call you with your lab results, ok?"

"Ok," she nods.

She exits the room. She finds Fin waiting on her.

"What do you want to eat?"

She shakes her head, "I just want to sleep. I don't think that I've slept in six months."

"Ok. You want me to take you to..."

She cuts him off, "I can sleep in the cribs."

"But, Liv..." he tries to reason with her.

"I'll be fine."

* * *

When they get to the cribs he flips on the light. She heads to a bunk, the one she always chooses to sleep on. She climbs under the covers, and her head hits the pillow.

"You know the bed at my place is much more comfortable."

"This will be fine," she insists, laying on her side, facing the door.

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Do you want the light on?"

"I am not afraid of the dark," she yawns.

"I know, but..."

"You can turn it off," she tells him.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks, lingering by the doorway.

"You don't have to," she answers.

He takes a seat, on the bunk nearest the door. He knows that she won't ask him to stay, even in her weakest moment. He also knows she doesn't want him to go. He watches her, until she falls asleep. She's been asleep for fifteen minutes when his phone rings. He takes it outside the room. Elliot appears in the hallway. He insists on sitting with her. Fin heads to the morgue.

* * *

When he arrives in the basement Melinda is waiting on him. He pushes through the autopsy doors.

"What's going on? What did you need to tell me in person?"

"Fin we have a problem."

"What kind of a problem?"

"A big one."

"The DNA isn't a match to the other victims?"

"Not that."

"Then what?"

"I don't think that Olivia knows."

"Knows what?"

* * *

Nick shakes his head, in disbelief. The state highway patrolman looks at him. Nick grits his teeth, as he speaks, "You are telling me that you saw his vehicle go by, three hours ago, and you didn't stop him?"

"I didn't. You have the wrong guy. Job is a good guy."

"Did you miss the BOLO we had out?"

"No, sir."

"Then why did you let him go?"

"We've worked together for ten years. Job would never do anything like that."

"Obviously you don't know him very well then."

"I know he didn't do it."

"That isn't your call. It is a jury's. He could be anywhere now. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir."

"He abducted several women, and held them captive. He tortured them."

"I don't believe it."

"You don't believe it?" Nick raises an eyebrow, "He abducted my partner. She called, from his house. You think that is just coincidence?"

"If she was there it was on her own freewill."

"Maybe I should take you into custody."

"For what?"

"Obstruction, to begin with."

"It will never stick. Everyone in this town has my back."

"That is all about to change. Everything you know is about to change."

"You will never make charges stick," the patrolman argues.

"You're going to be charged as an accessory, too."

"You can't do that. I didn't do anything wrong. Wouldn't you help your buddy, too?"

"I wouldn't let them get away. I would call a lawyer for them. I would try to prove them innocent, but I wouldn't just give them a three hour head start on the cops."

"You won't find him."

"You better hope that I do," Nick tells him, "Because if I don't, I am going to have your head, instead. Is that understood?"

"Yeah."

Nick steps back, and an FBI agent comes to put the patrolman in cuffs.

* * *

She's been asleep for an hour when her nightmares bring her back to reality. She opens her eyes, and is relieved to find that she's at the precinct, instead of her own personal hell. She opens her eyes, and sits up. Her former partner sits nearby. She blinks, when she sees him, considering for a moment the possibility that she's hallucinating.

"Elliot?"He smiles widely, and approaches her, "Olivia."

"You look like hell," she comments.

"It's nice to see you too," he responds.

"When was the last time you shaved?" she questions.

"It's been a while. I have had more important things to attend to."

"Like what?"

"Trying to find you," he answers.

"Here I am."

He squats next to the bunk. He leans forward, and wraps his arms around her, enveloping her in a hug. She hugs him back, not letting him go. She tries her best not to cry, but the tears come anyway. He brushes the hair out of her face.

"You're safe now," he tells her, completely unaware of the fact that her hell is yet to be over.


	15. Closer And Farther Away, Too

"What doesn't Olivia know?" Fin questions.

"It's about the DNA that I retrieved."

"What about it."

"At first I thought it was an error. I thought maybe somehow the sample got contaminated."

"You contaminated the sample?"

"No," she shakes her head.

"Then what?"

"I was able to use a hair sample. What I found..." she trails off.

"Melinda just spit it out."

"There were two different samples."

"What do you mean? Olivia never mentioned there being another guy."

"That's why I said that I thought she didn't know."

"How could she not know?"

"Let me finish," Melinda insists.

"Ok," he nods, in agreement.

"I also examined the hair under a microscope."

"What did it tell you?"

"Hair is unique to an individual, and can tell us where they have been, and even what they have eaten."

"You got DNA on the hair?"

"Both strands."

"Continue," he implores her.

"I found several different hairs, but I chose two," she puts the image of the hair on the screen, "We will call this one hair A. This hair has been died brown. The owner of this hair eats a diet high in red meat, and bread. I also found different minerals that lead me to believe the owner of this hair drank water from a well. I also found a trace amount of doxycycline, and antibiotic used to treat various infections, but specifically to treat an insect bite, to prevent lyme disease."

"What about the other hair?"

She puts the second hair under the microscope, "This hair has also been died brown. The owner of this hair doesn't eat meat, at all. He also doesn't drink water from a well."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fin wonders.

"The natural hair color for both of these individuals is red. Another difference is that the owner of hair A uses a slightly different color of hair dye than the other. It is a different brand, and a very subtle difference," Melinda explains.

Fin shakes his head, in disbelief, "Olivia is one hell of a cop. There is no way that she wouldn't know that there were two different people. I don't believe it."

"They are identical twins," Melinda tells him.

"What?"

"Identical twins. She probably had no idea."

"Will this hold up in court?"

"Absolutely," Melinda answers.

"I have to go talk to her," he turns for the door.

"Why don't you let me talk to her?"

"You're not a detective."

"But I am a woman," Melinda reminds him.

"I can have Amanda talk to her."

"Please. If she remembers anything pertinent I'll have her tell you."

"Ok," he agrees.

* * *

Fin enters the crib, and finds Elliot sitting on a bed. Olivia sleeps, in a bunk, nearby. Elliot looks up, as Fin enters the room.

"Any new information?" Elliot queries.

"Yeah. Melinda wants to talk to her."

"About what?"

"A possible lead."

"Why Melinda?"

"She thinks it would be better coming from her."

"Is something wrong?" Elliot questions.

"Other than our suspect pool doubling? No," he shakes his head.

"Doubling, what are you talking about?"

"I think she should be the next one to hear that."

"I understand," Elliot nods.

"I am going to take her..."

Elliot cuts him off, "I think it can wait a little while. She just fell back asleep a couple of minutes ago. Let her sleep."

"Yeah, you're right."

"You want a cup of coffee?" Elliot offers.

"Yeah."

"I'll go get us a couple of cups."

* * *

Fin steps outside the room for a brief moment. He closes the door behind him. He pulls out his phone, and dials.

"Munch," the voice on the other end answers.

"Munch I need a favor."

"Sure, what's up?"

"I need you to find a birth certificate for me."

"On who?"

"Job Whitley."

"Our suspect?"

"Yes," Fin confirms.

"What's going on?"

"I'll let you know. Just see what you can find."

"I'm checking now, just hold on a second."

"Ok."

"It looks as if Job Whitley is not his birth name. He changed it at the age of eighteen."

"From what?"

"Job Hadley. I'll try and find the birth certificate. Do we know what state he was born in?"

"I'm not sure. Try Ohio, West Virginia, and Virginia."

"Ok, I'll let you know what I find."

"Thanks Munch."

"Is there anything specific that I'm looking for?"

"Just let me know what you find."

"Ok," Munch agrees.

* * *

Fin hangs up the phone. He slips it into his pocket, and returns to the room behind him. He steps into the room, and a pair of dark eyes look up at him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't."

"Olivia you look exhausted try to get some sleep, please."

"When I sleep I dream."

"Enough said."


	16. Pieces of The Puzzle

Fin's phone rings. He answers it quickly, without checking the caller I.D.

"Tutuola," he answers.

"Fin?"

"Yeah, Munch."

"I talked to Melinda, she updated me on what she found."

"What did you find out?"

"Job Hadley was born with an identical twin brother, Joel Hadley. Both Joel Hadley enlisted in the navy at eighteen, in two thousand and one. Job Whitley also enlisted at age eighteen. Joel enlisted in Ohio. Job enlisted in West Virginia. Both of them were deployed to Afghanistan in two thousand and two. They both did three tours there. After his third tour Job was discharged. Joel did a tour of Iraq after his third tour in Afghanistan. After he finished in Iraq he went back to Afghanistan. He just finished his fourth tour of Afghanistan. He returned to the states for a three month leave, two weeks ago."

"Why didn't their DNA turn up when Melinda searched the military database?"

"Did I mention that Joel was a lieutenant commander, and a Navy seal? His records are sealed, for security purposes," John adds.

"We should have been able to match the DNA to Job's records."

"It seems somehow his records disappeared from the Navy database shortly after he was discharged. Job was also a navy seal. Oh, and did I mention that Job had training in counterterrorism?"

"Which means he also had extensive computer training," Fin realizes.

"All of his other records are classified, and the navy refuses to unseal them," John adds.

"So we have no way of finding these guys?"

"Joel has a spotless service record. He'll return from leave in two and a half months, especially because we have no idea what the extent of his involvement is. The hair we found was from his head, and it was on Olivia's clothes," John admits.

"So it could have been transfer?"

"Could have been. It is unlikely, but it is possible."

"Did you find anything on their childhood?"

"Their mother, Teresa Hadley was in and out of jail their entire lives for prostitution, and drug charges. She surrendered her rights the day they were born, to their grandmother Karen Hadley. Teresa was seventeen when the boys were born. The digging that I did turned up a police report, even before they were born."

"For prostitution?" Fin guesses.

"No, she was the complainant," John answers.

"She was raped?" Fin questions.

"Yeah. She alleged that it was the captain of the football team. The judge in their town also happened to be his father."

"So no one believed her?" Fin concludes.

"It never even went to trial," Munch tells him.

"DNA was still in its infancy then."

"She had a DNA test done on the boys in nineteen ninety."

"It was a match?"

"Yeah."

"Let me know if you find anything else," Fin insists.

"Will do," Munch hangs up.

* * *

Fin enters the cribs. He finds Elliot leaning against the wall. Olivia isn't there.

"Where is Liv?" Fin queries.

"She went to talk to Warner."

"I found out some info on our perp."

"Yeah?"

"Job had an identical twin, Joel. Both of them have a background in the Navy. Both of their navy records are sealed. Also their mother was in and out of trouble her whole life. Their grandmother raised them. As it turns out their mother was raped, and it resulted in their conception," Fin reveals.

Elliot shakes his head, "Olivia is not going to want to hear that."

"Everyone is given different opportunities. Everyone makes different choices."

"So the brothers were in this together, all along?" Elliot questions.

"No, Joel just got back from Iraq two weeks ago. He is on a three month leave. With the evidence we have we can't even prove that he did anything to her," Fin adds.

"And we are certain that the Job didn't try to switch places with his brother? Job wasn't in Iraq?"

"Job had to use his own fingerprints for his background check to get his job."

Elliot furrows his brow, "When did he get his job?"

Fin furrows his brow, "I talked to Nick earlier. He said the guy he talked to, said the worked with Job for ten years."

"So?"

"He's only thirty one. He did three tours in Afghanistan. Three tours would be at least four and a half years. He didn't go to Afghanistan until two thousand, and two. That would mean that he didn't return stateside until at least two thousand and six. That's only seven years, at the most."

"So he had to be someone who served in the Navy with him?"

"Yeah. Both Job, and his brother were Navy seals."

"We need to talk to some of the guys who served with them."

"The navy is not going to let that happen," Fin points out.

"They might not talk to a cop, but they might be willing to talk to a marine."

"I doubt it," Fin voices concern, "It's not the same thing."

* * *

Olivia looks at Melinda, in disbelief. She shakes her head.

"So you are telling me that he has an identical twin brother?"

"Yes," Melinda confirms.

"Can we account for the brother's whereabouts at any point?"

"He was out of the country most of the time."

Olivia thinks back, "Last week he had to fix the sink, because it was clogged. I took the wrench, and hit him with it. I hit his wrist. I heard bones crack, when I did it. The next day he came back, and his wrist was fine. I thought that maybe I hadn't hit him as hard as I thought."

"Was there anything else that you noticed?"

"There was a scar on his shoulder, that I hadn't noticed before."

"You thought it was new?"

Olivia shakes her head, "No. I just thought I hadn't noticed it before. I thought I had over looked it. Honestly there is so much of it that I tried to block out, I wasn't entirely surprised."

"What did it look like?"

"A healed GSW is what it reminded me of."


	17. Going Through The Motions

He finds her, as she is leaving autopsy. She moves past him, towards the elevator. He follows her. She presses the button in frustration. He looks over at her, and he can see that she's staring to break.

"Olivia talk to me," Elliot insists.

She shakes her head, "We spend our entire careers trying to understand criminals. We try to empathize with victims, but..." she trails off.

"But what?"

She shakes her head, and stiffens her jaw, trying not to cry.

"Olivia, whatever it is, you can say it to me."

"Hell is a one way road, and sometimes there is no coming back."

Without a word he wraps his arms around her. She pushes him away.

"Don't!" she warns.

He takes a step back. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry doesn't even begin to cut it. Elliot why the hell are you even here?"

"I was your partner, for twelve years."

"You're not anymore."

"Why are you angry at me? I didn't do anything."

"You're never going to get it, are you?"

"Get what?"

The elevator doors open, and she walks towards the squad room. She enters the squad room, and finds Fin.

"Liv, what's wrong?"

"I want to go home," she answers.

He doesn't question her, he simply nods, "I'll take you."

* * *

Their car ride is silent. He follows her to the apartment. When she reaches the door she realizes that she doesn't have a key. He expects her to feel around, somewhere, and pull out a spare key, but she doesn't. He pulls his keys out of his pocket. He puts a key into the lock, and pushes the door open. She steps inside. He follows her in, and closes the door.

"Why do you have key?" she wonders.

"New door," he admits.

She looks around the apartment. The living room, and kitchen are exactly as she left them. She swallows hard, and heads towards the bedroom. She gets to the doorway, and finds a hand on her shoulder.

"Olivia I don't think that you're ready for this."

"I have to come home at some point."

"Maybe not yet."

"I have to do this," she argues as she flips on the light.

She expects her bedroom to be a disaster, but it isn't. It is exactly the way she remembers it, except for the bedding. Now there is no bedding. She steps into the room, and it doesn't look like a crime scene. It only takes a few seconds for it to feel incredibly overwhelming in that room. She steps back, and heads into the living room. She takes a seat on her couch.

"Talk to me," Fin begs.

"All I have wanted for all of these months is just to come home. And now I am here, and it is not where I want to be. How can I stay in there? It brings everything back."

"Olivia you need to talk to someone," he suggests.

"I am talking to you."

"A professional. This isn't all going to magically disappear in a day, or two."

"Not to mention that he is still on the loose, and he could show up here, at any time."

"You can't think like that," he tells her.

"No one has ever gotten away from him."

"That's not true. The first woman he abducted managed to get away from him."

"What happened to her?"

"Cops found her days later, they didn't believe her."

"Did she live?"

"She's alive."

"Does he know where she is?"

"I don't think so."

"Do you think that he'll try to find her now?" she wonders.

"I don't think so, but..." he trails off.

"But what?"

"She has a son."

"And?"

"He was born less than a year after she was found."

"So it's his son?" Olivia queries.

"We could not confirm that, because she wouldn't let us test his DNA."

"Oh."

"I understand that she is trying to protect her kid, but..."

"Fin does he know that the boy exists?"

"I don't think so."

"He is a control freak. I can't imagine that he doesn't know where she is. I am sure that he keeps tabs on her somehow."

"Olivia I think that you're being paranoid."

"You weren't there. You have no idea."

"You're right, I wasn't, but you're safe now," he reassures her.

"You can't promise me that."

"Can I ask you something?"

She nods.

"Are you ever going to forgive him?"

"Who? My captor?"

He shakes his head, "I would never expect you to forgive him. I was talking about Elliot."

"I don't think so."

"Olivia he worked day and night to try and find you."

"So did you."

"Olivia he was your partner for twelve years. That's kind of cold, don't you think?"

"He left without a word, that is kind of cold, don't you think?"

"You both made mistakes. Now is not the time to be burning bridges, is it?"

"I..."

"You're lucky to be alive," he reminds her.

"Am I really? What if I can't be cleared for duty?"

"You just got back, and that is what you're worried about? Olivia that is going to take time."

"I am going to have to jump through hoops. I am going to have to pass a psych eval, and..."

He cuts her off, "Olivia slow down. Work can wait. Let's heal some wounds first."

"I live for my job. I just want to get back to work."

"You have to help yourself, before you can help anyone else."

"What if I can't?" she looks him in the eye, and asks, on the verge of tears.


	18. Not Like That

"You can't think like that," he warns.

"I don't know where the monster who did this to me even is. I don't know if you will ever find him. There are two of them. You won't know which one is which. How am I supposed to help myself, when I can't even convince myself that it's ok to fall asleep?!"

He takes a seat on the arm of the couch.

"Olivia you don't have to stay here."

"I should feel safe in my own home, don't you think."

"After everything that has happened, I understand why you don't."

"I just want my life to go back to normal. I want to pretend that none of this ever happened."

"Olivia that is not a solution, and you know that."

"I don't want to have to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. I am always going to wonder."

"Liv we are going to find him," he promises.

"Don't make promises that you can't keep."

"You need to talk to someone," he insists.

"I am talking to you," she points out.

"A professional."

"I am not ready for that," she argues.

"You don't have much of a choice."

"What do you mean?"

"If you want to come back to work you need to at least go through the motions. You have to jump through the hoops if you ever hope to get back."

"And what if I do, and it isn't enough?"

He cocks an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"What if I can't pass my psych evaluation? What if I can never be a cop, again?"

"Just have some faith," he insists.

"That is easy for you to say. It is not easy for me to do. How am I supposed to have faith in anything, after everything that has happened in the past six months?"

"You trust me, you trust your partner, right?"

"Yeah," she nods in agreement.

"Then have some faith in us. Let us help you."

"I..." she trails off as her eyes well up with tears.

"Don't push us away, and shut us out all of the time. Let us in. Let us help you."

"The physical scars are not nearly as bad as the other scars he left."

"I know."

"And I don't want to go rehashing old wounds."

"Olivia sometimes you have to face things in order to deal with them. I know that none of this is easy, but you have to hold on."

Her chin quivers, as she does her best to maintain her composure, and keep from crying, "I don't know if I want to."

His heart sinks, "Liv, don't say that."

"I don't know if I can hold on anymore. I don't know if it is worth it anymore."

"You're telling me that you don't think you're worth it?"

"I..." she can't find the strength to answer him honestly.

"You may not believe in yourself. You might not have faith in me, but you have to hold on."

"Why? Give me one good reason."

"Because you listen when no one else will. You have helped so many people. You have given strength to so many women, who felt like they didn't have any."

She shakes her head, "I made them confront their attackers. I made them relive every single details of their attacks. Then I told them it was going to be ok. It just isn't enough. It will never be enough."

"You help them heal," he argues.

"I help them relive their living hell. I'm not there for them, in the middle of the night, when they are wide awake, because they're afraid he's coming back. I am not there when they wear their running shoes to bed. I don't know that I helped any of them."

"Olivia, trust me, you helped a lot of them."

"I don't know if any of it is worth it," she admits.

"Which part?" he queries.

"The system. Putting someone on trial, and having to fight just to prove that they are guilty of a crime that we know they committed. We put victims on the stand and make them look in the face of their attackers to testify. If that isn't cruelty I don't know what is. It is a twisted sense of justice."

"I don't think that we're getting anywhere here. I know that you're angry. I know that it is going to take a long time to heal. When you're ready I am here to help you."

"You're leaving?"

"No," he shakes his head, moving towards the door.

"Come on let's get something to eat. You have to be hungry."

"I'm fine."

"Olivia you don't have to lie to me. You can lie to yourself, if you want, but please don't lie to me."

"Fin..."

"Come on," he insists.

"I..."

"You need to get out of this apartment. We have to find you somewhere else to stay."

"Like where?"

"Anywhere but here."

"I can stay here."

"No," he shakes his head, "You can't stay here. I won't let you surround yourself with memories that you can't shake. I won't let you sit in this apartment, and be reminded of what happened every second that you're here. You've got to start over."

"But..." she tries to argue.

"No arguments."

"I should be able to stay in my own home."

"I agree, but you can't stay here. I think that you should start looking for a new place."

"I'm not ready to deal with anything else, right now," she admits.

"Then you'll stay with me, until you are."

"I don't want to put you out."

"Liv you would do the same for me."

"Fin I don't think that it is necessary for me to stay with you."

He nods, "If you don't want to stay with me, that is fine, but you have to choose someone to stay with."

"Why?"

"Because you don't need to be alone right now."

"How do you know what I need?"

"Because I know you, even when you don't want me to."


	19. Banished

She doesn't sleep at all that night. She refuses to stay in his guest room. Instead she curls up on the couch. In the morning when he wakes up he finds that she's gone. For a moment he begins to dial her cell phone, only to remember it's in evidence lock up. He tries her number anyway. He is surprised when someone on the other end picks up. At first he reminds himself after all this time her number has probably been reassigned.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end repeats.

"I..." he stutters.

"Fin, do you need something?"

"Olivia?"

"Why do you sound so surprised."

"I just figured that..."

She cuts him off, "I got a new phone this morning. It is the same number."

"Where are you?"

"I am trying to put my life back together."

"Liv that is a journey, not a destination."

"I am looking for a new apartment."

"So you did hear some of what I said?"

"I was listening."

"I wasn't sure that you were processing anything that I said."

"I took what you said to heart. You're right."

"How did you get a phone, you don't have any money."

"I went to evidence lock up first thing this morning, and retrieved my belongings. Luckily they recognized me, because all of my I.D. was in evidence."

"Not all of it."

"Where is my gun, and badge?" she questions.

"Olivia slow down. You're skipping steps here. You are not ready to get back to work, just yet."

"I just want to know where they are."

"The captain has them."

"Ok."

"Olivia I don't think that it is a good idea for you to be by yourself right now."

"Who said that I was?"

He furrows his brow in confusion at her 180 from the previous day. He thinks about the situation for a moment, and then a light bulb flips on. "Liv you're not trying to bait him, are you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Yesterday you were afraid that he would find you, and yet today you are acting fearless."

"I'm not alone. When I walked out your door this morning Amanda was asleep in your hallway."

"She wasn't supposed to fall asleep."

"Fin I appreciate your concern, but I have been a prisoner for the past several months. I really don't appreciate the guard at the door."

"I am sorry. I was just trying to keep you safe."

"I know."

"When will you be back?"

"I'll see you at the station."

"You're not going in today, are you?"

"Where else am I going to go? Fin I can't sit and wallow."

"Therapy, the gym, wherever you might go to feel better."

"Work is where I go."

"Liv, come on."

"Please just let me do this," she begs.

"Olivia I am not your keeper. You are an adult you can do whatever you want," he begins.

She cuts him off, "But?"

"Do me a favor and slow down. Don't try to be the hero."

"I'm not."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I am just trying to survive."

"I will see you at work. Be safe."

She hangs up the phone.

* * *

When he enters the squad room she has already arrived. He looks over at Amanda, who sits at her desk. She shakes her head. He approaches her desk, questioningly.

"What's the look for?" Fin wonders.

"Stay out of the path of hurricane Olivia," she warns.

"What's going on?"

"She's been in the captain's office since we got here."

"Why is that a bad thing?"

"I have seen at least two objects fly across the room so far."

"How long have you been here?""We just got here ten minutes ago."

He looks towards the captain's office. Olivia comes out the door. She slams it behind her. She grabs her purse, and walks past her desk, in a fury.

"Where are you going?" Fin asks her.

"The basement," she answers.

He furrows his brow, "Whoa! No, sit down!" he says firmly.

"Fin," she pushes, "Just get out of my way. Please let me go."

"Liv sit down at your desk, now!"

Her nostrils flare. She turns around, and goes over to her desk. She pulls the chair out, and has a seat. He gives her a stern look, "I am going to go talk to the captain, stay put."

She folds her arms across her chest. Fin enters the captain's office, closing the door behind him. Don looks up from his desk. Fin stands in front of him.

"What just happened here?"

"She wanted her gun, and badge."

"You didn't give them to her, did you?"

"I told her she had to pass her psych evaluation before she could have her gun back.""That is when she started throwing things?"

"I didn't realize how angry she was."

"She has a right to be."

"She's angry at everyone Fin."

"Wouldn't you be?"

"We never would have found her. She has every damn right to be angry. She can be angry at all of us, I am fine with that. I am angry at us."

"But?"

"The person she is angry at the most is herself. I am _not_ ok with that."

"So what happened?"

"I gave her the badge back. I told her that she would have to wait for the gun."

"So why did she tell me she was going to the basement."

"I told her that she could work on cold cases."

"Captain those files are in the basement," he reminds his boss.

Don smacks his hand on his own forehead, "I banished her to the basement. I didn't even think about it. She's spent the last six months in a basement prison. What was I thinking?"

"You weren't."

"Will you have her come back in here?"

He nods. Fin exits the room. His eyes fall on Olivia's empty desk, as he enters the bullpen. He looks to Amanda.

"Where is Liv?"

"She wouldn't stay. I tried to make her. She went to the basement."


	20. Connection

He finds her in the basement, quietly sitting at a table, with a box in front of her. She silently reads the file in front of her. She doesn't acknowledge Fin's presence though he is certain that she knows he is there. There is a chair at the table, perpendicular to Olivia. Without a word Fin pulls the chair out, and has a seat. He looks at her, but says nothing. She ignores him completely.

"He was wrong to send you down here," he breaks the silence.

She says nothing in response.

"I know that this job has been your life, but you have to take a step back. Your life..."

She shakes her head, and finally looks up at him. She stares at him, in frustration as she cuts him off, "This job is my life."

"Don't sell yourself short."

"I am not married. I have no family. This is all I have. Without this, I don't know who I am."

"You are the strongest person that I know," he admits.

"I don't want to talk anymore. I am tired of talking. I just want to work. Working is the only thing that helps me deal."

"That isn't true and you know it. You want an excuse to shut the world out. If you are working on a case you have a distraction. You have something to keep you from dealing with things. Olivia you can't skip the steps this time."

"What do you think will happen if I don't? I am lucky to be alive. I don't think anything worse can happen."

"Olivia while you were gone I kept having this recurring nightmare. I kept dreaming of you eating your gun. I don't want to have to live that."

"Fin..."

He cuts her off, "Don't brush me off. You just said yourself, work is your life. The events of the past months threaten that. If it goes away I am afraid that my dream will become a reality. I know that I can never understand what you have gone through. But I know you."

"Why are you here?"

"I wanted to apologize on behalf Cragen. It was a poor choice to send you down here."

"I am not that fragile."

"Really?" he cocks an eyebrow.

"It's quiet down here, and I don't have to deal with the looks, or the questions."

"And there is absolutely no security. I am worried about your safety. Grab you box, and come back upstairs."

"I can't."

"Can't, or won't?"

"This job has been my life for so long. I am not afraid someone is going to take it away from me."

"What are you afraid of?"

"That I can't do it anymore. I am afraid that I don't want to do it anymore."

"You do."

"How do you know?"

"Because I can still see the passion you have for this."

"What if that isn't enough?"

"It will have to be, for now."

"What if they never find him? That is a possibility."

"That isn't a question that I can answer, Liv. That is something for you to answer."

"Is this where you suggest that I go see a shrink?"

Fin doesn't answer.

"I am not ready to talk to anyone."

"Because?"

"I need to sort through some things on my own, before I can share them with others."

"Liv everyone has scars."

She shakes her head, "Not like these."

"Will you please come back upstairs?"

* * *

She finds a quiet place to work, with a balance of enough privacy, and eyes. She sits on a stool, and reads the case file to herself. She takes notes as she reads. She turns around, and finds Melinda working on an autopsy report.

"Can I interrupt for a minute?" Olivia questions, from her seat at the counter in the autopsy room.

"Yes," Melinda looks up.

Olivia looks at the piece of paper. "I worked this case, but I don't remember seeing this report."

Melinda joins her. Olivia hands her the sheet of paper. Melinda reads it, and then briefly reviews the file.

"We did an analysis of the hair. We were backlogged, and another case took precedence. By the time the results came it was probably just filed away. I never saw it."

"How do you know?"

"Because I never signed it," Melinda explains, "If I had been aware of it I would have signed it."

"So what does it mean?"

Melinda furrows her brow as she reads the report. She finishes reading, and looks at Olivia.

"Liv what year was this report from?"

"Two thousand. Why?"

"Where did they find this victim?"

"She washed up near a warehouse off the Hudson, why?"

"Did we ever identify her?"

"No. Why?"

"Olivia why did you choose this case to start with?"

She shakes her head, "I have a list I keep in my desk of cases I couldn't solve. This one was on the top of the list. Why are you asking?"

"You need to check the missing person's database from West Virginia, and surrounding states."

"Why?"

"Because the analysis of the hair is almost an identical match to the hair I found on you."

"Meaning that she was the same place he was?"

"Maybe she is a victim that we didn't know about."

"She was sixteen."

"How old would he have been at the time?"

"Seventeen."

"A seventeen year old is sloppy. He hadn't had any training then. We need to go back through the evidence."


	21. Stalking

They are able to make a connection to the cold case. But the success doesn't seem like much, when they are no closer to finding the perpetrator, despite help from the FBI. After a week Olivia is pretty warn down with the whole situation. Her partner enters the squad room as she heads for the exit. He stops and looks at her.

"Where are you going?" he questions.

"I need some air," she admits.

He nods, and allows her to pass. The elevator doors have just closed behind her, when his gut throws up a red flag. It twists into knots. He heads for the stairs. He makes it to the bottom close to the same time that the elevator does. He waits for her to pass. He watches her walk outside. He follows her from a safe distance. He expects her to walk away from the building, and get some air. Instead she heads towards their parked squad car. She climbs inside. She pulls away from the spot. Nick happens to spot Fin.

"Hey I need the keys to your car," Nick insists.

Fin tosses his to Nick without a word, or a second thought. Nick climbs into Bessie, and heads out to follow his partner. She drives for several miles. He can tell by her driving that she is too preoccupied to notice him following her, or maybe she is just too consumed by everything to care. He hangs back as she pulls into a parking lot. She parks the car, and climbs out. She walks down the street. He parks his car as she heads into a building just three away from the parking lot. He waits a few moments, and follows her.

He stops in front of the building, and then turns back. He returns to his car, and waits. He waits in the parking lot for a while. His car is parked next to hers, so he knows that she will see him. He knows that it is time to confront her, for her to confront her feelings. His mind flashes to the building he was standing in front of moments earlier. He thinks of the sign on the door, telling what each suite is. The knots return as he recalls the list. He swallows hard, but continues to watch through his window.

She returns to the parking lot, with tears in her eyes. She is so consumed by emotion she pays no attention to his car. She walks past it, to her own. She climbs into her car, and slams the door. She sits in the car, in tears. He swallows hard, shoving down any doubt. He exits the car, and moves toward her. He walks around the front of the car to the driver's side window. He pecks on the window with his knuckles. She looks up at him, with a tear stained face. He motions for her to roll down the window.

"Please just leave me alone," she begs, rolling the window down a crack.

"I am your partner. It is my job to look out for you."

"Please go," she begs.

He shakes his head, and once again walks around the front of the car. She sighs in relief as he moves past her. His next move catches her off guard. He pulls the passenger door open, before she can stop him. He climbs inside the car, next to her. He waits patiently for an explanation.

"Talk to me Liv."

"I don't want to talk to you," the tears stream down her face, "I don't want to talk to anyone."

"I think that it is safe for me to assume that you weren't in the private investigator's office."

"No, I was not."

"And I am guessing that you didn't go to the dentist."

"Not today," she admits.

"It isn't a very big building. It doesn't leave a lot of options. You were getting your taxes done?" he hopes.

"No," she shakes her head.

"Olivia."

"Nick, please just go. My life is a mess. I don't want to talk. I don't want you here. Just go, and leave me alone."

"I can't," he argues.

"Why not?"

"Because I have to be honest, I don't trust you right now."

"That means nothing to me."

"Olivia it is my job to protect you."

"You didn't," she sobs.

He reaches over to hug her, but she pushes him away.

"Don't! Don't try to make this better. You can't make this better. No one can make this better."

"Olivia please talk to me," he begs, offering her his handkerchief.

She pushes his hand away, "Please just leave me alone. Just go away."

"What happens if I do? Huh? Where are you going to go, if I get out of this car?"

"Why does it matter?"

"You don't have a gun," he points out.

"It isn't that hard to get one," she argues.

"Cars can be used as weapons."

"Weapons? What are you talking about?"

"Driving headlong into a wall, or off a bridge."

"Nick do you really think I am going to..."

He cuts her off, "I don't know what you are going to do. I just know what offices were in that building. I know what offices you didn't go into. Olivia I am here for you. Please just let me be here for you. Neither of us can change what happened. I am not trying to. I know that I failed as your partner, but please give me the chance to redeem myself."

"I can't," she argues.

"I know that you blame me. I was your partner, and I should have protected you. I should have been able to prevent this guy from entering your life..."

She cuts him off, "It is too late now."

"I am sorry."

"Your sorry? My entire life is in shambles, and all you can say is that you're sorry?"

"I know you hate me. I know that you are angry at me."

"Nick not everything is about you. In fact none of this is about you. I don't blame you for what happened. You can't follow me home every single night of my life, to try to protect me. I am angry at myself. I should kept this from happening. I have been a cop pretty much my entire adult life, and I could have stopped this."

"There is nothing that you could have done differently."

"That is bullshit, and you know it."

"Olivia stop blaming yourself. Talk to me. Please."

"I can't talk to anyone. Everything is completely fucked up."

"Liv!" he is taken aback by her candor.

"My life is upside down."

"It is going to take time to heal, but things will get better."

"It is easy for you to say that. You weren't there."

"I know."

"This is my worst nightmare."


	22. Smothered

He enters the squad room. All eyes fall on him. He waits for the questions. He doesn't have to wait long. Fin breaks the silence.

"Where is your partner?" Fin questions.

"She said that she needed to clear her head," she answers.

Munch shakes his head in disbelief, "You left her alone?"

"She is an adult. We shouldn't smother her."

Fin vacates his seat at his desk, "I'm going to go find her."

"Fin she just wants to be left alone," Nick argues.

"She doesn't need to be alone. That is the worst possible thing for her right now!" Fin's nostrils flare as he exits the squad room. He gets on the elevator, and rides to the ground floor. He gets off the elevator, and dials Olivia's number. He expects her to ignore him. It rings twice, and then he gets an answer.

"Benson," she answers out of habit.

"Where are you?" he asks.

"Where am I supposed to be?"

"I thought that you would come back with Nick. He's here, and you're not."

"At the precinct?"

"Yes," Fin confirms.

"I am at the diner across the street."

"Why?"

"I came to get a slice of pie."

"Okay, stay where you're at."

"Fin what is going on?"

"Just stay put."

"Okay," she hangs up the phone, and looks at the piece of pie in front of her. It's been months, and months since she's had a slice of pie. She hears the bell above the door ding. She doesn't look up. Fin slide into the booth, across the table from her. She looks at him.

"Did I miss something?" she wonders.

"I was just worried about you."

"I am right here."

"Olivia where did you go?"

"It doesn't matter."

"What's going on with you?"

"You mean other than my entire life being turned upside down? Nothing."

"Liv talk to me."

"I don't want to talk. I just want to eat my pie and be left alone."

He looks at the slice of pie on her plate. He furrows his brow, "Apple? You always get coconut cream."

"I just felt like getting apple."

"Are you going to tell me what happened? Where did you go?"

"Fin don't," she begs.

"Why not?"

"You shouldn't ask questions that you don't want to know the answers to."

"I am worried about you. Please just talk to me."

"Fin I don't want to talk. I just want my life to go back to normal."

"Back to normal? Olivia you disappeared of the face of the planet for six months. You went through hell. It is going to take time for things to get back to normal."

"I just want my life back."

"I understand that, but you have to do the work."

"I just want this nightmare to be over with."

"I know."

"And it seems like it is never going to end."

"We're going to catch them."

"You guys haven't made any progress. Excuse me if I don't have a lot of faith right now."

"In us?"

"I don't have a lot of faith in anyone."

"Have you talked to anyone?"

"I'm talking to you."

"That isn't what I meant."

"Who do you want me to talk to?"

"Please just talk to someone," he begs.

"I can't."

"Olivia you can't pretend that this never happened."

"I know that," she slides out of the booth. She heads for the door. He places money on the table for her pie, and then follows after her. By the time he gets outside she's speeding off in her police cruiser.

He enters the morgue. He makes a beeline for the autopsy room. He pushes through the double doors. He finds Melinda standing at a sink washing her hands. There is no body on her table. She looks over at him.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Olivia took off about an hour ago. She won't answer her phone, and I don't know where she is."

"Did you try tracking her phone?" Melinda questions.

"Yeah, she turned it off," he reveals.

"Isn't there a tracking device in her squad car?" Melinda wonders.

"It's not active."

"Are you worried that someone took her, or that she just doesn't want you to find her?"

"I am afraid of what she's going to do."

"I think you should let her be."

"Let her be? That's your advice, Melinda? What if she does something stupid?"

"Sometimes we need to be alone to deal with things," she suggests.

"She shouldn't be alone."

"If you guys are on top of her all the time she isn't going to open up to any of you. She needs some space. You need to respect that."

"I don't know if I can."

"Why did you come down here? If you are worried about her?"

"What is it that you were worried that she didn't know?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Can't, or won't?"

"It would be a HIPPA violation if I told you anything."

"I need to know."

"I can't tell you."

"Should I be worried about her?"

Melinda nods, "You have every right to be worried about her."

"Do you think that she is going to do something stupid?"

She shrugs, "I am not the one that can answer that."

"You could help me figure out what she's thinking if you just tell me what's going on with her."

"If you really want to know I suggest that you ask her."

"I have."

"Then you should just wait."

"Wait, for what?"

"Until she's ready."


End file.
